Drink and Be Merry
by Lucinda
Summary: Angelus thinks he's spotted his next Childe in Japan... And then Angel finds Logan again. Crossover with Marvel Comics.
1. Drink and Be Merry

Drink and be Merry  
  
author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Angelus, Logan (not a pairing!)  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any vampires from Buffy/Angel, I hold no legal rights to Logan (Wolverine) of Marvel Comics.  
  
Distribution: Paula, Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL - anyone else ask.   
  
note: Before the encounter with Gypsies, Angelus and his family had traveled around the world...  
  
  
  
  
  
Angelus snarled at the moon, frustrated by the way things were currently going in his life. William and Dru were quite loudly passionate about each other, and otherwise content with things. The were being quite happy together back at their current abode right now. But tonight, rather than trying to join in on their 'happiness', he'd just felt restless and annoyed. He'd gone out walking, debating the short list of things to do in Kyoto after dark. Darla was off impersonating a Geisha, and undoubtedly drinking rich old men dry. That only left the handful of minions they'd accumulated, and that would be worse than the boredom.  
  
He continued down the street, considering that the streets here had a bit less garbage along them, which was a small benefit when he heard the noise. It sounded like growling. Curious, he decided to find out what was going on.  
  
Four fledgling vampires circled a broad man, rather short, with wild dark hair. Not Japanese, no, this man was from the West, and there was no fat on him, just wide expanse of muscles. And a sharp looking sword that he'd drawn. The man stood ready to fight, glaring at the vampires without the faintest hint of fear.  
  
"Which of you misshapen bastards wants to die first?" His words were hostile, a clear challenge and defiance to the predatory nature of the fledglings.  
  
Perhaps if the fledglings had been a bit wiser, they might have paused to consider the source of this man's confidence. What reason would he have for being unafraid at the sight of four hungry vampires? But they were young, and their hunger had made them stupid, so they attacked. The man may have been stocky and short, but his movements were sheer poetry. Not the inept ramblings such as William had once scribbled, but arcs of pure motion, the sword flashing like moonlight in the man's hands. It was a very short fight, and in the end, the fledgelings now dust that would mingle with the road, the man stood unharmed. He frowned, checking at something on his blade before wiping it clean and sheathing his weapon.  
  
He was perfect. Not in looks, but in the way he moved, the way that he'd killed. This man would make a terrible and splendid childe. But clearly, he couldn't just saunter over and attack him, the fledglings had been a vivid demonstration of why that wouldn't work. Fortunately, Angelus was a Master Vampire, capable of thinking with more than his teeth. He had a plan.  
  
He made his way towards the man, fixing a cheerful smile on his face. "Hello there. Good t' see another face that looks a bit like home. Fancy a nice drink?"  
  
"You know any decent pubs in this city, Irish?" The man's question was thoughtful, and he leaned forward just a bit.  
  
"Of course." He made a small gesture with one hand. "And the name's Angelus. Who might you be?"  
  
"I might be a lot of people, but I answer to Logan." The man smiled, showing gleaming white teeth. "Lead on to this pub, Angelus, and I'll buy the first round."  
  
Angelus could feel himself smiling as he lead the way to the pub. Logan would be a wonderful addition to the family, and he was even willing to buy some of the whiskey. "Truly, this is a night to eat, drink, an' be merry."  
  
"Roman quote, isn't it?" Logan sounded as if he was trying to place it. With a small shrug, he seemed to discard the question. "Already ate, but a drink or three sounds good."  
  
They entered the pub, settling at a table in a back corner. Angelus was smiling in anticipation. Once he got this man drunk enough, he would be able to take him down, to drain him and turn him. And the taste of whiskey in the blood would be delicious...  
  
The drinks began to flow, Angelus alternating the payments with Logan. At first, he felt smugly certain that this man would fall victim to the whiskey long before he felt any effects of it himself. As they continued to drink, he found himself humming old drinking songs from his mortal days, feeling unexpectedly good about things. But he was Angelus, the Scourge of Europe... "And nobody drinkss me un'er the table."  
  
"Is that right, Irish? Maybe we'll have to test that claim." Logan's voice was still steady, unblurred by the whiskey they'd been drinking.  
  
Annoyance surged through him. "Of course tha's right! I can drink you down any day."  
  
Logan had just smiled, and then it was a competition. He was vaguely aware of people gathering to watch, of murmurs and the soft clinking of coins from the side of the room as the whiskey kept coming. He had his pride to defend...  
  
Angelus groaned, his head throbbing mercilessly. Everything felt stiff, and there was this horrible taste in his mouth. Dimly, he recognized it as a hangover. And for some reason, he was laying on the floor. With a table over him.  
  
So much for that plan. Logan was gone. And his head was killing him. Slowly, he crawled out from under the table, discovering that the pub was deserted, the other tables broken, shards of glass and pottery mugs scattered over the floor. He tried to remember how that had happened. Something about a joke? Someone talking about dogs? No, it was foreign dogs. And then there had been a brawl, and more whiskey...  
  
Leading to him waking up under the table. Damn.  
  
Angelus began his careful trek back home, more convinced than ever that if he could ever find him again, and catch him off guard, Logan would be a great childe. But he wouldn't try to get him drunk again. Definitely needed a different plan to get Logan. But he was fairly certain that it had been a merry night.  
  
end Drink and Be Merry. 


	2. Another Round

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Angel, Logan (not a pairing!)  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any vampires from Buffy/Angel, I hold no legal rights to Logan (Wolverine) of Marvel Comics.  
  
Distribution: Paula, Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL - anyone else ask.  
  
note: this follows Drink and Be Merry, but takes place a couple decades later. The SoulCurse is now in effect, as is Prohibition.  
  
  
  
  
  
The man called Angel stepped a bit deeper into the shadows, cursing the sunlight that kept him here. If not for the sunlight, he would be elsewhere, in a cheap boarding house instead of huddled in a warehouse, trying to avoid any stray sunlight. If not for some sort of altercation that had resulted in a mob and dozens of policemen blocking the roads, he could have beat the sunrise and been in his room. If not for the fact that he was a vampire, he wouldn't be trapped in here now.  
  
He heard a door open, the hinge squeaking just a little. If not for the fact that a vampire's hearing was superior to a mortal's, he would have missed it. Crouching to avoid any possible stray sunbeams, he tried to figure out what was happening. From the sound of it, there was a single man that had entered the building, and he was walking this way. He was also muttering things, something about 'damn foolish laws' and how it 'wasn't right to deny a basic simple pleasure like that'.  
  
The footsteps moved very close to where he was, and he could hear the man's heartbeat, almost smell the blood that pulsed and throbbed under his skin. It would be rich and hot, a nourishing fountain of life and strength and warmth that would flow easily into him...  
  
Angel clenched his fists, trying to battle the hunger back under control. Those gypsies had done this to him, made it so that he cared what he did now, cared about the right or wrong of it. He'd tried to ignore it, tried to cling to his Sire and his Childer, hoping that with their support, he could overcome this spell. That even if it meant a few changes, he would not be alone. That had been a dismal failure. Darla had pushed at him, trying to have him back to his old self, if not worse. Urging him to kill priests and children, even infants. But he hadn't been able to do it. And considering that she'd apparently gained enough influence over William to set him against a Slayer, surely his Childer would not have permitted anything that Darla deemed unacceptable weakness...  
  
  
  
He caught a new scent in the air. Whiskey, rich and fiery, it's scent teasing at him, beckoning him closer. He found himself responding to the call, partly because he had nothing better to do, and partly because alcohol could dull the call of his hunger. If he drank alcohol, he was less likely to drink his neighbors... God have mercy, but he hoped he wasn't turning into a drunkard in his old age.  
  
The man had opened a crate, removing a bottle and pulling the cork with his teeth. He was short, rather stocky, with his hair pulled back into an unfashionable ponytail. Had his hair been bound by wire? The man raised the bottle as if in a toast before drinking from it. He then turned around, sitting on another crate, as if settling in for a while.  
  
He knew that man. He'd seen that face before, although not here. Images of Kyoto flooded his mind, and he remembered seeing this man there, decades ago. He'd cut down the minions, and then they'd gone drinking together. He'd wanted to turn him, but... well, he'd ended up passing out drunk, something that had been so entirely embarrassing that he'd never spoken of it. But how could he be here, unchanged by the passing of time? The name slipped out, a tiny whisper of breath. "Logan?"  
  
The man paused, as if he'd heard something. But surely no mortal ears could have heard that whisper? Or else Logan was no mere mortal. The words that emerged were a certain proof that he had heard his name.  
  
"I know you're out there. Might as well come out." He paused, looking around. "Care for some decent whiskey, Angelus? I got enough to share."  
  
The idea of lurking in secrecy was clearly broken. He might as well show himself. And the idea of whiskey was good, almost as good as the idea of blood. Logan would have good blood, rich and strong and full of intensity and life... "Some whiskey would be good. And it's just Angel now."  
  
"Well, Angel, have some." Logan passed him a bottle, pale eyes glancing measuringly over him. "You look like hell, Irish. Bet you could use a decent drink."  
  
He took the bottle, biting the cork free, feeling his features flicker, feeling the urge to spit out the cork, to sink his teeth into Logan instead. There was no sword to stop him today... He closed his eyes, swallowing the Whiskey the way a mortal man might swallow water, gulping it down as he tried to regain a measure of control.  
  
"Most people occasionally pause to take a breathe of air while they down their bottle of booze, Irish." Logan's voice was a casual drawl, but something about it set Angel's nerves on edge. "Then again, I don't think air's too much of a problem for you, is it?"  
  
Angel looked at him, feeling fear and unease flood his body. How much did Logan know? What would he do about it? "What?"  
  
"Don't try to play dumb, Irish." Logan shook his head, fishing another bottle out of the opened crate and holding it towards Angel. "I know a vampire when I bump into one. You still look like you could use a decent drink."  
  
"I could use a bit more than just alcohol, if you're going to bring that up." The words slipped out, almost a growl. His head spun a bit, was it hunger or the whiskey?  
  
Logan looked at him, as if he could look inside and read all of his secrets. "Damn, Irish, what's happened to you? You look half starved. Sure as hell didn't look this bad back in Kyoto.""  
  
"Long and complicated story. The short point is that it matters now. It matters where I get a bit of blood." He felt his body shudder, the urge to bite and drink strong. He swallowed a bit more of the alcohol, hoping to drown out the hunger, even if only for a while. "And it just... I just can't be who I used to be. If you know a vampire when you meet one, why in the hell did you go with me to that bar back in Kyoto?"  
  
"I wanted a decent bar, and hadn't been able to find any." Logan shrugged, as if the whole situation wasn't bordering on the impossible.  
  
"You couldn't find a bar, so you just…" Angel stared at the man, feeling shock temporarily drown out the hunger. "Are you even human?"  
  
Something crossed Logan's eyes, something painful and haunted. "I don't know what else I would be. But you just… you can't just give up on life, Angel. If killing people makes you feel guilty, then don't kill anymore. Maybe you can get blood from a hospital, or a butcher. Caring what you do doesn't mean you have to end up some half starved wraith lurking in the shadows."  
  
"I burn in the sunlight." The words were soft, and Angel knew even as he spoke them that Logan didn't mean literal shadows.  
  
"Fine, lurk at the edges of things. But you don't have to give up on life. Start over, build a new life away from everyone that knows you should be pushing fifty or more by now, use a different name in a different country… But don't just stop living." There was an intensity to Logan's words that defied any explanation of a mere pep talk..  
  
Could it be that simple? Could he just go somewhere else, buy bottles of blood, and start over? Make a new life in a place where nobody would know him? His stomach clenched, and he knew that even getting entirely drunk wouldn't drown out the hunger this time. "I can't be human."  
  
"Fine, you're a vampire. Don't take up sunbathing. You can still go somewhere and make a life, can still be a person instead of a half starved shadow." Logan looked at him, pale eyes meeting brown.  
  
Angel ran his tongue over sharp teeth. "But being around people again…"  
  
Logan muttered something about Irishmen and Whiskey drowning out courage and sense. "Hell, I'll probably decide later that this is stupid, but…"  
  
Angel blinked, watching Logan roll up his sleeve, exposing one muscled forearm. The veins were easily spotted, pulsing just a little as his heart beat. Licking his lips, he could almost taste the blood that flowed there. Was Logan actually offering to give him blood? Or was he hallucinating from a combination of hunger and whiskey?  
  
Logan lifted his arm, hand clenched into a fist. "Might as well have some. Then, you can take yourself out into the world and be somebody."   
  
He barely remembered moving, but the next thing he knew, his teeth were buried in Logan's arm, and his blood was flowing down his throat. Logan's blood was filled with intensity, and inexplicable age, as if he'd seen centuries instead of the decades of his face. But then again, maybe he had lived for centuries. He closed his eyes, savoring the blood, rich and fresh and healthy, a welcome change from rats and the occasional dying beggar.  
  
Angel wasn't certain how long he'd drank, only that the clawing screaming hunger was quiet when he let go. Logan was still watching him, and pressed a handkerchief over the bite when Angel had let go. "Now, the deal is this. You go out and live. Be a man, not a lurking hungry beast."  
  
Looking at the man who'd inexplicably helped him, had known what he was and still looked at him as a man instead of a monster, Angel felt guilt and confusion in equal measures. "I didn't… didn't hurt you, did I?"  
  
"Y' got sharp teeth, Irish. But I'll be just fine. At least, as long as this damn idealist self sacrificing crap goes away. It's got to be the whiskey." Logan had a small smile, as if daring Angel to comment on the fact that he still seemed entirely sober.  
  
Logan stood up, the handkerchief slipping just a little, showing the dark purple pink of a new scar where only moment before had been a bloody bite. "I'll be just fine. Hopefully, the same can be said of you. Keep the whiskey, just in case you need another bottle some time."  
  
"Thank you, Logan." Angel felt something inside, something that he could only call hope. Maybe he could do this, maybe he could start over. Be a decent man instead of a monster. "Decent whiskey's hard to find right now."  
  
Logan just waved his hand, as if to say it was nothing. "Don't worry about it. But next time, you're buying."  
  
Angel sat there, one hand holding a half empty bottle of whiskey, watching Logan walk away. His hunger was quiet for the first time in a long time, and he felt hope. Things were changing, and he hoped that it could last. Logan had said 'next time', did that mean he intended that they'd meet again, or was it just a farewell? Maybe it didn't matter that much. But Logan would easily merit a round of Whiskey if they met again.  
  
End Drink and Be Merry 2: Another Round 


	3. Wild Feast

author: Lucinda

rating: pg13

main character: Logan (Wolverine) and Angel

third in Drink & Be Merry

disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to Angel, the creation of Joss Whedon for the series 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'. I hold no legal rights to Logan, the creation of Marvel Comics

distribution: Jinni, Paula - anyone else just ask.

notes: this takes place just after WWII and before the Weapon X program. Considerably before the BtVS series takes place.

There was snow all around him. Something in the back of his mind suggested that this was somehow wrong. The man shook his head, his dark hair damp with melted snow and blood. Where had the blood come from?

He wasn't certain. He didn't seem to have any injuries, but... there were quite a number of bright purple-pink marks, slashes and dots over his body. Bits of wire and tubing seemed to be attached to him, but it looked as if they had been torn away from whatever they had once connected to. Those were the only adornments other than more streaks of blood and a few of ashes that covered his muscles. Something suggested that this wasn't right either.

Frowning, the man tried to follow that feeling. What wasn't right? Pain flared in the back of his head, radiating around his skull and down his spine, tracing out along every bone in his body, a deep burning ache. Something was howling, and it had to be very close...

He was howling.

The throbbing burning pain turned his vision red and then black. For a moment, he was dimly aware that the howling had stopped, and then everything faded into cool, dark nothingness.

Awareness returned, and he could feel every bone, as if they were trying to drag him down, too heavy to move. A blanket was covering him, and it smelled of cool earth and pine needles. He could hear a fire, smell smoke and earth, roasting rabbit and a man.

"You look like hell, Logan." The voice was calm, and carried a faint accent that his mind identified as Irish.

Part of him wanted to ask questions, to ask who the Irishman was, how he knew who he was. Surely he was this 'Logan' that the man had addressed? Nobody else was in the area with them. But everything hurt, and thinking didn't seem to help.

He made a noise, nothing quite coherent enough to be words, let alone questions.

"It's only me - Angel." There was a pause, and it sounded like the other man stirred the fire. "You were out in the snow. Do you remember what happened?"

"Nnnggh." The noise was hardly better, but it did seem to convey to the other man, this Angel person, that he didn't remember.

"Huh." Angel moved closer, and cold fingers touched his forehead. "At least you don't seem to have a fever. From anyone else, I'd ask if you had a death wish, running around like that."

Had Angel been a friend of his? How much about him did this person know? Why were they in some sort of earthen cave? He tried to shape the words. "Whhhrrr."

For a moment, there was silence. "We're in Canada, far away from anywhere that anything is supposed to be. No towns, no recorded military bases or research centers..."

Logan growled, something about the words striking deep inside, where the burning pain lived, and he had a momentary flicker of images, steel tables, glass tubes with men writing inside, a man with cloth over his face holding a scalpel... His hands clenched into fists, and there were tiny spots of pain and this odd grating sensation, and six gleaming lengths of metal emerged from his hands.

He froze, staring at the metal, watching the firelight shimmer over them. That was... new. Wrong. Those shouldn't be there.

"Those are new." Angel's voice was soft as he stared at the metal. "Apparently, there are things that the Canadian Government isn't sharing."

Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the metal to Angel. The man who seemed to know him looked taller, probably by about another foot. He had dark eyes and dark hair worn long, and he looked a bit ragged, as if he'd been traveling hard, and out of the way. But he didn't look or smell afraid of the metal, wasn't afraid of Logan. Actually, there was something about his smell that wasn't... Something inside said that it wasn't right, wasn't human.

"You look worse off than I was the last time we met." Angel's voice was quiet, and hinted at painful memories.

Logan made another sound, full of the questions that he couldn't find the words for. Pain throbbed again, and he grabbed at his head with his hands, heedless of the metal.

"I'm here, Logan." Angel offered him the half-roasted rabbit. "I'll try to help you get through this."

For a moment, Logan wondered what would happen, what the future would hold. But the questions made his head hurt, and instead, he took the rabbit, biting deep into the meat. For now, he'd eat. Questions could come later.

Angel watched for a while, not so much focusing on the rabbit, but looking at Logan, as if comparing him to a past memory. "Somehow, I don't think you'll be buying any whiskey in the near future."

Pausing, Logan tried to make sense of that. Flashes of almost memory tried to rise inside his mind, but vanished before he could get more than a vague sense of something lurking. Whiskey... it was a drink, not water, but something that burned in a good way, not like the throbbing pain. Reminded of his own nakedness, Logan sighed, certain that he couldn't buy anything.

"Don't worry about it right now." Angel offered. "I'll help you get better. Whatever happened, it must have been pretty bad."

One eyebrow raised, and Logan wondered why Angel would help him.

"You were almost family once." The words came slowly, as if there was something somehow shameful about them, which didn't make any sense. "If you had become family, it would be my duty and responsibility. But... well, things didn't go that way. It's still my choice. I'll help you."

Parts of it still didn't make sense to Logan, but for now it would be enough. He could eat, and rest. Angel would help him recover.

End D&BM3: Wild Feast.


	4. Dinner, or Guests?

author: Lucinda

for teens and older.

main characters: Logan (Wolverine) and Angel

fourth in Drink & Be Merry

disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to Angel, the creation of Joss Whedon for the series 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'. I hold no legal rights to Logan or the Hudsons, the creations of Marvel Comics

distribution: Jinni, Paula - anyone else just ask.

notes: this takes place just after the Weapon X program. Considerably before the BtVS series takes place.

They'd spent the rest of the winter in a rather feral life-style, hunting animals, and Logan eating the meat raw. Logan hadn't really started using words at all until that spring, and then they had been slow. Angel had stayed with him, trying to support Logan as much as he could.

He still didn't know what had happened to Logan, not really. He knew that it had involved scientists, and that things had been done to his friend, and that somehow, his friend's past had been stolen from his memories. Once in a while, Logan would dream things that might have been memories, but it was so hard to be sure. Angel hadn't been privy to much of Logan's life. Other times, they were nightmares, horrible images of pain and suffering that they both hoped had never been real.

The animals had already started to teach their young how to survive before Logan asked. "Why do you smell different? Why does the sunlight hurt you when it doesn't harm me?"

Angel had pondered for a while over how to answer that. Finally, he decided that only the truth would do, though he'd try to avoid some of the details. "I burn in the sun because I'm a vampire. You aren't a vampire, so the sunlight doesn't hurt you the same way. It probably changed my scent as well, but I'd never really given that much thought."

Logan stood there, looking over the valley filed with trees, and nodded. "I knew that before, didn't I? It feels like it fits."

Angel nodded, familiar by now with the way that some things that Logan had known, places that he'd seen, would 'fit' into the many gaps in Logan's memories. "You did. I'm not the only vampire that you've encountered, though as far as I know, I'm the only one that you're on decent terms with."

"You said once that I was almost family," Logan murmured, the phrasing a subtle request for more information.

"The first time we met was in Kyoto. I thought that you'd make a wonderful childe, a wonderful vampire." Angel paused, remembering that night. "Things didn't go as I'd thought, and as near as I can figure, we went to a bar, got into a drinking contest, and I woke up hung over, laying under a table."

Logan chuckled, his head shaking slightly. "Do you always go drinking with strangers?"

"Back then, I was more likely to drink the strangers than go drinking with them," Angel admitted. "I'm not the same as I used to be. You aren't quite either; you didn't have those metal claws then."

Logan's skin quivered, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. "But I knew who I was, knew my past."

"Yes," Angel agreed.

The glint of moonlight on metal and the sound of a man's voice cursing at the pine branches caught their attention. Below, they could see two figures moving through their valley, dressed in dark clothing. One of them had long red hair and was slightly smaller, probably a woman.

"Think those are hunters?" Logan asked, crouching a little, as if trying not to bee seen.

"I'm not sure," Angel mused, his mind pondering that very question. It wasn't the right season for normal hunting, so that left poachers, or scientists. If they were poachers, maybe he could have a nice bite, enough to convince them that it was a bad idea. But if they were scientists... No, if they were looking for Logan, they would have come sooner.

"I want to find out. Who they are, why they're here," Logan declared, starting down the hill to intercept the probable path of the humans.

Angel just nodded, curious about those very questions himself. They moved with very little sound, seeing easily in the darkness, and in the shadowy areas under the trees. This was familiar ground now, and they weren't about to be taken unawares by enemies. For that matter, neither one really had any interest in leaving enemies alive. OF course, it was always best to make certain before acting.

"Look at that stag, James. I think he's be a perfect subject." The red haired person spoke, the voice that of a woman with an education.

Raising his rifle, the man grumbled, "If the tracking devices work, he will. But I'm not sure that your colleagues have all the problems worked out just yet..."

The man shot, and the stag bounded away, crashing through the underbrush and smelling of blood and fear.

Logan growled.

The woman made a frightened squeak, grabbing at the man's arm. He twitched his shoulder, muttering, "Animals can smell fear. Try to stay calm, Heather."

Slowly, the man turned around, the gun moving slowly towards his shoulder. His eyes scanned the darkness, searching for the source of the noise.

Catching sight of Logan, he gasped, stumbling back with a loud exclamation of "Oh my God! A wild man."

"Why are you here?" Logan demanded, eyes narrowed as he glared at the people.

Angel shook his head in the darkness. Granted, Logan was dressed in roughly cured hides that they'd sewn together over the winter, but he was hardly the near-wild beast that he'd been upon his first waking. Besides that, the man with the rifle had completely missed him, had no idea that Logan wasn't alone. Sadly, the probably weren't poachers or criminals, so it was unlikely that he'd eat them. Too bad, the small amount of blood the stag had shed was reminding him that he could use a good meal.

"Maybe not as wild as that after all, James," the woman murmured. "You might want to lower your gun before he decides that you're threatening him."

With a stiff nod, the man lowered his gun a little bit, just enough that it was no longer pointed at Logan. "My wife and I are here as part of a nature study. We work for the Canadian government."

For a moment, Logan watched them in silence. Finally, he asked, "What do the two of you do?"

"I'm a biologist," the woman offered, her voice tight with worry and fear. "I'm working on a study of the wildlife populations of the area. My husband wanted to come with me."

"Just a few research projects," James spoke, his words careful. "I'm a researcher attached to the military."

It was obvious to Angel that the man was hiding something, though that could have just been fear of the supposed wild man. Maybe his research was supposed to be a military secret. Or maybe he'd been involved in some rather nasty things.

"The military…" Logan's words were a growl. Taking a step closer, the claws slid free with a few drops of blood and a very faint scraping noise. "You'd better not have had anything to do with these…"

Angel immediately decided that if this man had been at all responsible for what had happened to Logan, he'd kill him, soul or no soul. Logan looked furious, and the growl was still rumbling in his chest.

"Lord have mercy, how could that…" Heather's shock was something that could almost be tasted.

"No, I work with electrical systems, research on electronics." James sounded shaken, though not quite as terrified as the woman. "I've been researching a few prototypes of modern armor, but this… I've never seen anything like it."

"Logan's not a savage." Angel stepped into view, restraining a smile as the couple jumped. "He's a man that's suffered, and it was most likely at the hands of those he should have been able to trust."

"And who are you?" James demanded, the gun raising a few inches as he face Angel.

With a tight smile, Angel replied, "A friend."

"You're not one of my friends," James insisted.

"No," Angel agreed. Letting one hand rest lightly on Logan's shoulder, he added, "I'm his friend."

"Maybe we should go somewhere and talk about this?" Heather offered. "There's a cabin that we've rented for our stay…"

Angel glanced at Logan, a tiny shrug of his shoulders letting his friend know that the decision was his. Personally, he believed that they were surprised and a little afraid, but he still didn't trust them, not yet.

Logan nodded. "Talking might be good. Lead on."

As they followed the two people out of the valley, Angel sighed. It looked like he'd have to wait a bit longer for dinner after all. Unless… Leaning towards Logan, he whispered, "You stay with them, I'll grab a quick bite and catch up."

"Best not to have hunger clouding your judgment," Logan agreed, his words just as soft.

As Angel moved on a diagonal course, searching for a rabbit, he hoped that these people weren't a sign of trouble to come. He'd known that they wouldn't end up staying in a remote valley forever, but he hadn't expected to leave just yet. But sometimes, fate got tired of waiting, and delivered a swift shove. He had the feeling that it was time for things to change again.

End Drink and Be Merry 4: Dinner, or Guests?


	5. Windfall or Bait?

author: Lucinda

for teens and older.

main characters: Logan (Wolverine) and Angel

fifth in Drink & Be Merry

disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to Angel, the creation of Joss Whedon for the series 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'. I hold no legal rights to Logan or the Hudsons, the creations of Marvel Comics

distribution: Jinni, Paula - anyone else just ask.

notes: this takes place after the Weapon X program. Considerably before the BtVS series takes place.

Logan followed the pair of scientists to a cabin. It looked to have two rooms on the ground and a smaller room above, as well as a broad porch along the front wall, with a couple steps leading up. There was a jeep parked near the cabin, with chipped green paint. They probably considered themselves to be 'roughing it', though it looked damn near palatial compared to the cave that he and Angel were using. Of course, that was partly because of Angel's problems with the sunshine…

"They are alone here, though they might have a radio, or possibly a telephone," Angel commented softly, stepping out of the trees.

Logan nodded in agreement. He would have caught scent of any other humans, though Angel was probably either sniffing for blood or listening to heartbeats. Part of Logan knew that he'd once been quite familiar with telephones, but he couldn't even form a picture in his mind. That didn't matter – it meant they were alone for now, but might be able to call reinforcements if they wanted.

The man fussed with the door, grumbling about cold metal and stiff locks, with a ring of keys jangling in his hands. Logan could smell that he wasn't as calm as he was trying to look, but he knew all about concealing fear. Finally, he unlocked it and stepped inside. Logan could hear him grumbling, and smell an oil lamp and a match.

"Well, the two of you might as well come inside so we can talk," Heather spoke softly, hands held close to her body as she fought with her fears. Her scent reeked of it, though it was much less apparent in her voice and posture.

It didn't take very long before the four of them were seated at a square table, with Heather fidgeting with a stack of papers as an excuse not to look directly at them and James fussing with a cigar. For people who had asked them to come and talk, they looked remarkably hesitant to say anything.

It was James who broke the silence, snapping his lighter closed as he asked, "Have either of you been keeping track of the global rise of exceptional individuals? The sort who can do strange things, special things?"

Logan blinked, a small voice inside of him growling and another whispering that government interest in unusually capable individuals was far from new. They'd recruited him decades ago… Pain flared and drowned out that voice, causing red light to blur the edges of his vision into a tunnel.

Angel spoke, his words calm, "I've seen a few things. Enough to know that there are unusual people, to know that a few nations have been trying to study them, or to duplicate what they can accomplish. Has anyone figured out how that Japanese fellow can send fire from his hands?"

Logan glanced over, wondering when Angel had heard about such a person. It couldn't have been after he'd found him out here, wandering naked in the snow. Hadn't he said something once about vampires burning like kindling? Then, his mind connected the fragments into an alarming idea – did James think that they were 'exceptional individuals'? Did he want them for something?

"It should be impossible for a human to do that," Heather murmured. "I've been charged with trying to determine if unexpected changes like that occur in wildlife as well as humans, though I must say that I'm not entirely sure I want to find any. Imagine a fire-breathing wolf, or an eagle large enough to carry away an elk."

"Of course, nobody could expect that we could just find individuals with the precise abilities that we want, so there are efforts made to find other ways. Exoskeletal suits to enhance strength, or special goggles to enable seeing in the dark," James spoke quickly, gesturing as he explained. "It's tricky, and we can't replicate everything that we've had reports of, but it's a strong start."

"Have you been finding individuals?" Logan growled, fighting to push back the screaming red haze of pain that denied him his memories before it could drown out the present.

"Yes and no," James sighed. "We've been starting a list of people with interesting abilities, but to be blunt, there are far more people who have blue hair or can talk to rabbits than shoot fire from their hands. We were hoping that we could put together a team, a group of special and powerful individuals who could defend Canada from any external threat… But that's proving much easier said than done."

"Who decides what's a threat? Who has access to the list, and how much say do the people have over what happens?" Logan whispered, trying to ignore the memory of someone screaming in red darkness. He was afraid that the person screaming was himself. "What if they just want to tend a bar in Toronto or sell shoes in Quebec?"

"I'm offended by such insinuations," James glared, but then his eyes dropped to Logan's fists. "Except that I don't think you asked for those, and they certainly aren't natural. That and you said someone gave them to you. I can't imagine how that could have been done."

Logan snorted. "I don't remember. I don't know if I want to remember either."

"You're trying to recruit us for… whatever your looking for these powerful people to do. Powerful and not so powerful people who are going on a list," Angel murmured, leaning back with his arms folded over his chest. "Why us, and why should we join?"

"It's obvious that neither one of you are exactly normal. A normal person would have been stumbling around in the dark out there. You have something special," James leaned closer, trying to look them in the eyes.

Part of Logan's memories growled that the really good liars looked you in the eyes because most people felt that they could 'see the truth in a man's eyes.' He didn't trust James, and he couldn't be certain if it was something from his forgotten past or simply that his arrival seemed too convenient. Trying to pretend a calm that he didn't feel, Logan murmured, "I've spent a lot of time in the woods. Eventually, you get to know a place. As for those, anybody can be given a knife."

"Nobody who's looked into your eyes would mistake you for ordinary," James insisted.

"You mentioned that the government was seeking special people," Angel said. "What you haven't mentioned is what benefit it would be to us to join such a program, assuming that we were qualified."

"Isn't that a bit mercenary? Have you no sense of patriotism?" Heather's shock was obvious.

Logan let the tips of the metal blades emerge, enough that they were even with the ends of his fingers. "I have the feeling that I've already gone above and beyond the call of duty. It left me naked in the snow with metal knives in my hands."

James and Heather both shivered, and Heather rubbed her arms before retreating to start heating a coffee pot. After a few moments, James looked away from the silvery blades to focus on Angel. "Can I appeal to your sense of patriotism?"

"I'm Irish," Angel smirked, "So appealing to my sense of patriotism really wouldn't help you very much. As for being mercenary… I was never an idealist, and I lost my blind trust in appearances a long time ago."

"How unfortunate. There would be benefits if you accepted the offer," James placed a card on the table, with the words 'Department H' in the middle, written twice as large as the address and telephone numbers below.

Logan snorted, and asked, "What benefits?"

"A steady paycheck, housing would be provided, as well as a team of highly skilled medical professionals in case of any injury or illness available at no charge to you, the chance to meet other exceptional people… Possibly travel to various locations, on the government's expense."

"What limits on the doctors? Are they there to help us… the special people, or to study them? Can we go elsewhere when we want, or would we be kept on call?" Logan's hands had become fists with the blades of one hand still extended several inches. The edges of his vision had faded into a reddish haze, and he found himself listening for the faintest crackle of a radio or rumble of an engine.

"Someone must have treated you very poorly," Heather whispered, her voice low enough that James didn't hear her.

Logan looked at Angel, confident that the vampire had also heard her words. Neither one felt the need to confirm them.

"It would be something like a school or joining the military, more like the military for the two of you. What we've found so far suggests that these special abilities are just happening, and half the people that we've found are teenagers or children. Obviously, for them it would be more like a school with a few additional classes beyond home economics or woodshop. You would be allowed to leave if you wanted, and the doctors are not in charge," James spoke quickly, his eyes pleading for belief.

"You sound like you really believe in this," Logan admitted.

"Of course I do. I'm not going to insist that either of you give me an answer right now," James pushed the card towards them. "But I will ask that you at least think about it. Consider the program, consider the idea."

"I can assure you, James, we will give your words quite a bit of thought," Angel replied, dropping the card into a pocket on his shirt. "Something like this deserves more than a quick answer."

James and Heather watched as they left the cabin, and Logan wondered what they were thinking. Were they honestly trying to do something good? Did they at least think they were trying to help? Or were they just wondering if their latest exceptional specimens were refusing the bait? He didn't know enough about either to be certain of more than this project for Department H was important to James and Heather looked quite attractive.

When he could no longer make out the shape of the cabin through the screening trees, Logan glanced at Angel. "How much of that do you think was real?"

"Enough that I meant it when I said there would be plenty of thinking about their offer. Not that I'm certain that thinking would be about do we accept or not, but if he's telling us the truth, they're gathering up a large number of people who are different. I want to know why, and who's making the decisions, and what happens if the people found don't like what's going on. Is it like a school or job as James claimed, or more like a prison or laboratory?"

Logan nodded, knowing that Angel had raised some very good questions. "Which government is funding it, and what branch? Is this scientific, or military? And what happens when they finish their research? What happens to the gifted people if they figure out ways to duplicate everything they can do?"

"Exactly," Angel growled, his eyes flickering amber. "The other question is how much of a coincidence is it that they're here, close to where I found you. If they were sent here by someone hoping that they'd find something… Whatever happened to give you those blades wasn't small or inexpensive. The only possibilities are some sort of government group or someone obscenely rich, immoral and bored. Either one could have arranged for somebody to go looking for a loose end that slipped out of their grasp."

"Is the goal to snip the loose end or to reweave it back into their pattern?"

There were quite a few things that they needed to think about. Whether to accept James's offer was only one of them. Unfortunately, none of them had simple answers.

Logan sighed, "If he's for real, it would be a good opportunity."

"Of course it's a good opportunity. The question is who's benefiting from it."

End D&BM5: Windfall or Bait?


	6. Considering the Offer

author: Lucinda

for teen and older readers - may contain strong language, violence, and mention of torture/medical experimentation.

main characters: Logan, Angel

number six in the 'Drink & Be Merry' series.

disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or X-Men, comics or movies.

distribution: with the first five parts

notes: a different path after Angel's soul was restored, involving someone that Angelus once thought would make a wonderful addition to the family...

Logan leaned against an oak tree, one hand playing over the rough bark. Only a piece of his mind was focused on the herd of deer grazing in the meadow, most of his mind was worrying over the Hudsons and their offer. Parts of it were tempting, and parts were very troubling.

If they were being truthful, maybe he could have a safe place. Maybe he could reclaim the fragments of his memories, sort out who he used to be and what had happened. Maybe he could have a home.

If they had been sent by whoever had caused this in the first place, he might be sent for more of the same, more of the red pain and screaming haze. More time in the hands and under the knives of people who saw him as a tool, as a thing to test and use. Eventually, what made him Logan would shatter again under that, and he would either become no more than a tool, or he would be no more than a crazed animal in pain. He didn't like either option.

Angel was probably thinking about the Hudsons also, though he'd be thinking in the darkness of the cave, safe from the sunlight. There were different problems for Angel, and his friend had adapted to them. The winter cold hadn't bothered him, but sunbeams were painful. He'd seen it, a thin shaft of light that had caught Angel's arm and left smoldering burns. Angel's swearing had covered four languages, and Logan had been surprised to discover that he knew them all.

"I have too many questions," Logan spoke the words, low enough not to startle the deer. "If I don't go, I won't find the answers."

Shaking his head, he began the trek back to the cave where he slept, the cave where Angel was safe from the sunlight. The cave where he had left the metal tags that had been the only thing on him when Angel had found him naked and bloody in the snow.

"I want those answers."

Logan hoped that he wasn't making a big mistake.

"You're growling," Angel's voice emerged from the back of the cave, the early hour strengthening his accent.

"Sorry," Logan grunted, moving inwards and sitting on a piece of log. "I've been thinking about their offer."

"Of course you have," Angel moved closer. "Have you made a decision?"

"If I go with them, if I try this program for special people, I might find answers. I might gather back the bits that tell me who I am, who I was. How I ended up the way I am now," Logan touched the back of his hand, tracing over the place where the blades emerged from his skin. "If they're on the level, it would be a great opportunity."

"Have you considered the other possibility? That they may not be on the level? Or that they mean what they say, and their bosses have lied to them?" Angel's low words held no anger. "It would be a very effective strategy. If they believe what they're saying, the people they talk to would know that. But if what they believe is a lie…"

"Yeah. If this program isn't what they say, I could end up back in the red again. Pain screams, and more pain. I don't know how long I'd last before I stopped being Logan," his words were harsh, and the growls were more than an undertone. "I'd either become a tool or an animal."

"And neither one would still be Logan," Angel spoke in the dark, finishing the thought. "Do you want to go?"

"I know it's taking a big risk, but I need to try to get the answers. I think this might be the best way to do that," Logan sighed, and let his mind consider the bloodier possibilities. "Go with me. Be there so that if they try to break me, someone will stop them. Maybe stop me, if that's what it takes."

"You mean, be ready to get you out of there if it's necessary, and kill you if I'm to late," Angel's voice was low, and his accent thicker.

Logan looked towards Angel, not having the words to answer. He knew that what he was asking wasn't a simple thing, and it wasn't something that most people would have understood so easily. And that there could be a gap between understanding a thing and doing it.

For several long minutes, they sat there in the darkness, letting the ugly possibilities and Logan's desperate request hand in the air.

"Agreed."

Logan almost missed the soft word. He didn't smile though, knowing that if his friend needed to carry through on that promise, it would cost him. It would cost, not in coin, but in blood and pain and guilt. For Angel's sake, he hoped it didn't come to that.

End D&BM6: Considering the Offer.


	7. Walking Into Things

author: Lucinda

for teen and older readers - may contain strong language, violence, and mention of torture/medical experimentation.

main characters: Logan, Angel

number seven in the 'Drink & Be Merry' series.

disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or X-Men, comics or movies.

distribution: with the first five parts

notes: a different path after Angel's soul was restored, involving someone that Angelus once thought would make a wonderful addition to the family...

././././././././././.

Logan hoped that he wasn't making a big mistake. He'd discussed the Hudsons with Angel, and they'd kicked around various ideas and possibilities. What the Hudsons were saying was tempting, and if things went the way they said they should, he'd have the chance to rediscover ordinary life, maybe remember or relearn who he'd been. To find out what he knew. Things could be good.

Of course, they'd also discussed the chances that things could be terrible. That the appealing idea of a program to help special people learn to use their abilities concealed a darker idea of using the special people, of testing them, of learning how to do what they could do and maybe discarding them later. Of the sort of ugly painful things that had been done to him, things that he couldn't recall that had sent him into howling madness in the snow, things that the ghosts of their memory could wake him in a cold sweat, stinking of fear and remembered pain. In which case, he almost felt like he owed it to everyone who hadn't suffered and even more to everyone else who had to kill everyone involved. To carve them into pieces with the gleaming metal knives that had been put into his hands.

They even had a rough plan. For now, he'd talk to the Hudsons, tell them that he was interested. Tell them that he'd go with them for this program.

Angel would follow, without the Hudsons knowing. He'd see if things were really going the way they were supposed to go. He'd be there to help if they went badly, not that either of them wanted something awful to happen.

Neither of them would tell the Hudsons anything about Angel and his abilities, and especially not his limitations. For some reason, he wanted to describe it as 'need to know' or 'operational security', and regardless of the words, they didn't need to know. The distrustful part of his mind already insisted that they knew too much.

Logan reminded himself that they'd worked out the plan very carefully. It should be flexible enough to adapt to whatever happened. He was still nervous as he stepped into the clearing that held the cabin the Hudsons were staying inside. The plan was one thing, but acting on it, risking the return of the pain and confusion that had left him the shell of a man that Angel had found… Logan tried not to growl as he told himself to hide the nervousness just the same as he would hide fear. He could do this. He would do this. His hand didn't shake as he reached over, knocking on the wooden door.

"Just a moment, give me a moment…" Heather's voice carried easily through the door, and the scent of coffee slipped around the edges of the door, along with the scents of James and Heather Hudson.

"Logan," Heather smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. "Did you have some more questions? Or maybe it was just the coffee luring you out of the woods this afternoon."

"I wouldn't mind some coffee," Logan offered, not quite sure if he even liked the drink. It smelled good, and he'd almost certainly been around coffee before. "I wanted to talk a bit more about the program you mentioned. About the training and what would be asked of me. If the fact that I can't remember a damn thing about my past will make a difference."

Heather poured him a mug of coffee, passing it over to him with a murmured, "I have some sugar, but no cream. I hope that's okay."

Logan took a sip, considering the way the drink seemed to bite back. It didn't taste the way it smelled, but he found the taste pleasant. "S'good the way it is."

"You were thinking about the program," Heather murmured, her eyes flickering to him before returning to her own cup of coffee. "I'm not as involved in it as James, but it shouldn't make that much of a difference about your memories. It might make the paperwork a bit messier, but I'm sure there will be other people who won't be using the name they were born with. Or maybe people who never went through the normal channels, not the hospitals or the schools…"

"You did say you were looking for different people," Logan sipped at the coffee.

"Yes. I suppose some of them would be different enough to have never gone out into the world the way the rest of us have. There might be other considerations as well, things that we'll probably get blindsided with the first time we find someone who needs them. Part of the learning curve for a new program, I suppose," she sighed and took another sip of her coffee. "You'll join?"

For a moment, Logan wanted to drop the mug, to abandon the plan and return to the woods. To forget about finding answers, finding his past – it probably wasn't that great anyhow. There was no reason those words should have caused that surge of irrational panic to flow through him. He stayed in the chair, and took a slow sip of the coffee, fighting to keep the panic hidden, to keep the metal blades hidden within his flesh. "Yeah. Maybe I'll even find some answers. Things that seem familiar, maybe even records of who I used to be."

"Not who you are?" Heather's brows lowered as she asked the question, confusion softening the words.

"I can't remember who I used to be. Not where or when I was born, not if I had a wife, a family. I must have had parents, if you go back far enough, but I don't know if they're alive or dead, don't know what names they had to start looking. I can't remember what I did, where I lived," Logan fell silent, remembering the few pieces of information that Angel had known. How little those scraps had seemed in comparison to the vast painful blanks where his memories should have been. "I'm someone else now."

"Maybe we just need to help you become someone better that you used to be," Heather offered.

Her words made him feel cold, as cold as the deepest winter snows, and Logan wasn't certain why. Maybe there was something very important in those missing memories, maybe it was a coincidence… But he was very glad that he'd have Angel following, looking to make certain he didn't vanish again. The mug of coffee didn't feel so hot and welcoming anymore, now it seemed as bitter as betrayal and rage. He hoped that he hadn't walked into a trap.

Heather Hudson outlined how they would go from here, when they would return to their base and give their findings to other scientists and when he would go with them to the Project H offices and base. Her green eyes sparkled, and her red hair seemed warm, inviting. She looked like she was a pretty, enthused woman who wanted to make the world a better place. The flickering fantasies that he'd had about her naked body, counting for freckles under her clothing made perfect sense.

The cold sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach didn't. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe he was worried about nothing. Maybe it was just empty nerves that would wear down and seem silly a year from now. The sort of thing that he'd laugh about over a bottle of whiskey, shared among friends.

But for today, Logan was having second and third thoughts about agreeing to this program.

End D&BM7: Walking Into Things.


	8. The Edge of Something New

A week after he'd told Heather Hudson that he'd agree to give their program a try, Logan sat in his new little cabin. There was a stack of papers in front of him that he'd spent the last hour filling out, asking for things, some of which he couldn't answer, and others that he wasn't certain he wanted to answer. Plenty of writing. His handwriting looked awful, and had only looked worse as he went through the pages.

He'd visited their medical doctor for a physical, and had kept twitching, the claws wanting to come out and a bit of his mind just before the howling madness whispering not to trust this man, to beware of people in white coats, not to trust the needles with their nasty drugs... wanting to kill him before he could make the pain come back.

He hadn't clawed the doctor. Not even when the man had become frustrated at all of the 'I don't know's that Logan had given him. Didn't know his date or place of birth. Didn't know if he had any food or drug allergies. Didn't know if he had any vaccinations.

When the doctor had given a frustrated sigh and demanded to know if he'd been in any foreign countries within the last three years, he'd growled, the claws slipping out a few inches as he snarled, "I can't remember anything before I woke up naked in a snowdrift this spring. Somebody gave me these and thought that my entire damn past was a fair trade. I don't remember a damn thing about where I've been, what I did, or who the hell I was."

That had been the end of the questions about his medical history.

Logan almost felt guilty about scaring the doctor like that. It didn't change the fact that he didn't know and couldn't answer those questions. He'd just try his best to avoid the doctor. But he wasn't about to let anyone mess with his head.

There had been other people here. People who were different. There was a giggling girl with flowers growing in her hair. A quiet yellowish green girl with big, dark eyes that smelled of the ocean. A man from one of the native tribes that had something odd about his scent, something that Logan couldn't put into words - he only nodded when James Hudson said that the native man was called Shaman. There was a little boy with five fingers and a thumb on each hand, and his whole body covered over with tiny grey scales, with a long, narrow forked tongue. There was another girl that seemed to be able to talk to squirrels.

He would have been more nervous and twitchy if Angel hadn't shown up. He hadn't told anybody, and didn't intend to tell anyone. But he'd seen the vampire lurking around last night, not quite hidden by an ugly coat that he'd found somewhere. The scent was unmistakably Angel. It made him feel better that someone outside this program of theirs knew where he was, would be keeping an eye on him.

Logan dropped the pen on the table, picking up the stack of papers and forms. He'd been assured that the main office would have someone there at any hour, to answer pressing questions, to help with necessities of administration or living here at 'the facility'. That's what the Hudson's bland looking bosses had called it – not a school, not a base, but 'the facility', where the 'special people' were staying. They'd all been assured that if they needed anything at all, someone would be in the main office. Medical questions – the somebody would know a little first aid and be able to call a doctor. Home maintenance, vehicle maintenance, emergency food – someone would be there. Logan wasn't sure about that, but he thought it would be harmless enough to see if someone would be there to take the paperwork.

"Damn paperwork. I still don't know most of the answers…" he muttered.

As he walked out of his little cabin, he had to admit that he did like the fact that they'd helped him find real clothing, things that he hadn't had to piece together from rough-cured hides. Flannel shirts and denim jeans, thick woven socks. Sturdy boots to cover and protect his feet, though that did slightly reduce his awareness of where he was, what he was walking over.

"How are things so far?" Angel's voice wasn't a surprise. His scent had been in the area.

"Paperwork. And there was a doctor. He didn't do anything that seemed unusual, but neither one of us liked all the don't knows for answers," Logan paused a moment before he admitted, "I scared him."

"But you didn't attack him. Has anybody here seemed familiar?" Angel asked, now walking beside Logan.

Logan considered that as they walked slowly towards the main offices of the facility. There was a more direct route that he could have taken, but he was in no hurry. He considered the way he'd felt at the sight of the white lab coat, the scent of the antiseptics. The howling, snarling corner inside his mind that had wanted to hurt/carve/kill the doctor before the doctor could make him hurt again. "Nobody's familiar, nobody seems to know me. The doctor… there's a part of me that's still howling in the wind. Still howling, snarling madness."

"I don't know if that was there before, or if you got it with the claws," Angel admitted.

"Can I trust myself? All doctors can't be sadistic bastards using people for awful experiments. They can't all deserve to be carved into bloody shreds scattered across the room," Logan's words would have been too quiet for a normal human to hear them.

"As much as I want to tell you that you're worrying for nothing, I can't. I understand your concern too well. You have the howling madness, I have my demon. I spent over a century killing people, enjoying their screams and their blood. That's still there, no matter how much I wish it wasn't," Angel's words were low, filled with shame and worry. "One night, the temptation might be too much. Old habits might not be as buried as I thought."

"Didn't I… I think I told you that if you don't let yourself get too hungry, things should be manageable. Animal blood if it's too strong…" Logan's words trailed away. He could almost remember having a talk with Angel about that, about the vampire's literal thirst for blood, about his new concern about killing people. The pain of a conscience after decades of evil. "Was there whiskey?"

Angel chuckled, "Yes, there was. We talked about it once, before… before whatever they did to you. I was a wreck, and you told me to stop cowering in the shadows and take responsibility for myself. To go forward and be a better person. And to not go to long without feeding the hunger a little, as long as I was careful what or who I ate, and how much."

"I said that?" Logan glanced at the vampire, noticing the look that said Angel was deep in memories. Maybe his past wasn't gone forever, if he could remember part of a conversation. It wasn't much, but it could be a sign that at least some of his past was still there, still hidden in his skull. That he could one day have his past again, piece together fragments of who he'd been, what he'd done.

"You also told me I looked like hell," Angel chuckled. "Not having a reflection, I can't exactly offer an opinion, but considering the way I was feeling back then, you were probably right."

"Things here… so far it's been what they said. The Hudson's have been trying to help me fit in, find my way around. The people in charge are calling this the facility," Logan paused, trying to find the words to explain the way those words made him feel. The not quite a chill that swept over his bones accompanied by the urge to growl and cut. The painful awareness that the others here didn't have that reaction, didn't share his fear that this was some elaborate trap. "I don't like them, don't trust them. But so far…"

"So far, things seem to be on the level," Angel finished.

"I just don't know how long it'll last," Logan admitted. He didn't give voice to his hope that it would last a long time - long enough to build a new life, to make new memories and connections. To become someone with a history worth knowing. Hope in humanity seemed very fragile right now.

Angel nodded. "There's a military base across town. Not a big one, as bases go, but there's soldiers, some helicopters, maybe a few tanks. It's a bit tough to know what all they have behind their fences… Funny thing about military bases, they don't want to let people just stroll through and take a good look around."

"Meaning?" Logan tensed, part of him wanting to run.

"Even an idiot would be able to figure out that some abilities might be very useful for a military operative. Or even just… suppose there's a mechanic that doesn't need a jack to hold up the jeep while they change the tire, or they can just pick up a new engine and put it in without any of the heavy equipment. Or maybe they just have good grounds to help practice abilities. Or maybe it's just a coincidence. I don't know what it means, if it means anything," Angel sighed, running his hand thought his hair. "I thought you should know."

"You keep messing your hair up like that and I'll cut it all off," Logan gave a teasing grin, trying not to dwell on the idea of a military base. Angel said it was a military base, not that they were doing research. It could be nothing, it could just be additional resources… it could be trouble. He didn't want to think about that right now.

"I'll see what I can learn. You aren't alone, Logan. If there's trouble, I'll get you out if I can. If not… you aren't alone, and I won't abandon you to the men in white coats," Angel promised.

Logan nodded, before mentioning "I haven't told anyone that you're here."

"What they don't know, they can't plan against," Angel murmured. "Cautious of you."

"Maybe paranoid," Logan admitted. Part of him wanted it to be nothing more than needless paranoia. Another part remembered waking up in the snow, covered in blood, remembering only pain. That was solid proof that at least once, he hadn't been careful enough, safe enough. Once was more than enough. Once could be too often. "We'll see how things go."

"That's all we can do right now," Angel slipped back into the night.

Logan felt better knowing that he wasn't on his own. Not that he'd been alone – that was the problem. There were many people here, he just didn't know if he could trust them. Didn't know that someone wasn't waiting to hurt them, to use them. While he couldn't remember what sort of man he'd once been, he was starting to suspect that patience wasn't his virtue. "I don't like waiting."

End Drink & Be Merry 8: The Edge of Something New.


	9. Naming the Wolverine

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Logan was in the fitness center, lifting weights. There were a few other people here, a weedy looking teenager jumping rope and swearing in English and French when his feet tangled, the girl with the flowers in her hair doing chin ups, half a dozen people on treadmills, and a large guy who'd just finished settling weights onto a massive weight bar.

The weights he had at the moment didn't look nearly that big, but part of what he was doing had less to do with the weight and more to do with being around the other people. Being around all the scents and the noise and in the middle of all the various equipment. He forced his mind away from electronics and monitors and scientists and back to moving the weights. It was different from moving rocks, or logs, or hauling dead animals that he or Angel had killed. Different but with just enough suggestions of familiarity that he knew he'd used weight sets before he'd wound up with metal claws and his past swallowed by red, howling pain.

He curled the metal upwards, and downwards, focusing on staying calm. On not growling, not releasing the claws that he could feel beside his bones. Logan found himself tracking the other people, a part of him aware of their locations and relative positions, alert for the smallest indication that they might attack.

Logan didn't know how much of that had to do with the man he'd been Before, and how much was the result of not remembering, of knowing that he'd been too careless, too trusting once. Had somehow permitted himself to be destroyed and left a howling beast in the snow. Had he been hunted before? Had many enemies? Had one o his enemies captured him and given him over to the scientists? Had he trusted the wrong person? Had it been some sort of special program like this one?

"Are the weights too much? You look like you're sweating," the voice was familiar. James Hudson. Military researcher - he'd claimed to focus on electronics.

"It isn't the weights. I'm not used to being around people. I haven't been since..." Logan paused and shook his head. "I don't remember much time around people."

"This isn't the normal reaction of nerves," James murmured.

"They probably aren't telling themselves not to carve up the other people before they can hurt them," Logan blurted before he could stop the words.

"Ahhh... probably not. Maybe it would be better to work on your endurance instead? Perhaps see how long you can run instead of how much you can lift?"

For a moment, Logan just looked at him. Wondering if James Hudson was interpreting not remembering being around people as uneducated and not very smart. Words like that might also give concern about his temper - concern that he shared A part of his mind admitted that he had no idea what sort of education he had or hadn't received. But he had read all the paperwork, had identified and understood the French words of the teenager jumping rope and the words of the native language that the shaman had used the other day. He wasn't completely ignorant, and he'd have to take some time looking through the library to see about his education. But it might help if this man... if the ones in charge didn't know how much he knew, how smart he might be. Better that they underestimate him.

"I guess I could do that for a while," Logan commented. There was no reason to go out of his way to be difficult. Not yet, at least. And it could be to his advantage if they didn't know just how strong he really was...

With a smug little smile, James Hudson led him over to the treadmills. "You just hop up here, and run like normal. All the advantages of running without being out in the weather."

"Huh," Logan looked at the treadmill, and then stepped onto the machine, feeling the large loop of the running surface slip a bit from his weight. The frame shifted a little, and he didn't know if it was supposed to do that or if he was too heavy now... James Hudson clearly heard nothing. Logan took a step, feeling the difference as the surface moved beneath him instead of his body moving forward over the ground... hardly 'just run like normal'.

"It's pretty simple," James Hudson waved his hand. "Feel free to speed up a bit... and we can see how long you can keep a pace."

Logan kept his first few steps slow, little faster than a walk as he tried to adjust to the ground moving beneath him and tried to sort out if the treadmill would handle his weight. Angel had told him that he weighed almost twice what a man his size normally would, and he believed his friend, his almost family. When the treadmill showed no signs of further protest, he picked up his speed to a nice lope - the sort of pace for tracking prey. The sort of pace he could keep up all day with no effort at all.

James Hudson was standing beside the treadmill, looking at the instrument that gave a number for speed, and the one beside it that could track distance. "Not terribly fast... How long can you run like that?"

"Shall we find out?" Logan countered.

"An excellent idea! Just... just keep running."

Logan kept up his loping pace.

He was certain that James Hudson would expect a lot less than he could do. He knew that he could run faster. Knew that once, in the Before, he would have set a pace as fast as he could manage, for as long as he could, and fought to keep the first hint of effort from his features. Instead, he set a decent lope, not as fast as he could run, but an easy pace for long distances. And he held to it.

Two hours later, he was still holding that steady lope.

James Hudson was staring. A few other people were also watching, occasionally commenting to each other. Asking what was so interesting about a man running, asking how long he'd been doing this, how long he planned to keep this up. Several people had said they could run faster. A taller, lean fellow with blue hair had murmured something about 'solid distance form - I wonder if he'd be interested in a decathlon?'

"Ahhh...Logan?" James Hudson's words were quiet. "Aren't you getting tired of running?"

"The view's a bit boring," Logan admitted. "Why?"

"I mean, would you like to take a break from running? Aren't you tired?" James Hudson shook his head, and murmured, "I'm getting tired just from watching."

He chuckled, "Why would I need a break? I feel just fine."

"You've been running like that for over two hours!"

Logan chuckled, "Either I'm in very good shape, or this is one of the ways that I'm special. You did say that your program was looking for special people, didn't you?"

"Like the hunting wolves. He will follow his prey until they can run no longer," murmured the young shaman.

"Yes, but wolves are more impressive. He's… I'll grant that he looks rather wild, but he doesn't look like a wolf at all. Maybe something else…" countered another member of the audience.

"How's he do for his size? He's a bit of a small guy," mused another voice.

"Logan? If we can talk you into easing out of the running, do you feel up to a bit of sparring? There's some people who'd like to know if you can fight," James Hudson asked.

"That might not be the best idea…" Logan protested. He was feeling less on edge than earlier, but the idea of fighting, even if only a sparring match… What if he lost his temper, or something let out that red, howling rage? Or if he accidentally let the metal blades out – these possible sparring partners would be human, not vampires like Angel. Getting skewered would be worse than uncomfortable for them, it could be fatal.

"Oh, relax. These are trained professionals, they won't hurt you," James Hudson declared.

"So long as you know that I'm not sure this is a good idea and that medical assistance will be available," Logan grumbled. There wasn't really a way out of this now, and if he were honest, he rather liked the idea of getting a better idea what he could do against humans. Not against Angel with is vampire strength and speed, but against trained humans. "Now I wonder how long this is going to take?"

As it turned out, the sparring didn't take long. Logan wiped the floor with the soldiers who came in to spar. They seemed too slow, and he barely felt it when they connected, though his own blows seemed to stagger them. It was also apparent that somewhere in his Before, he'd picked up at least a little training in other fighting styles. Some of the movements that he used were unfamiliar to some of the soldiers, but his body knew these skills, knew how to use his opponents' size and momentum against them.

"Like the wolverine, his size hides his danger. As the wolverine can defeat the bear when challenged, this man can defeat larger, more intimidating foes as well," chuckled the shaman.

Logan chuckled, "So I'm a wolverine now? There's worse that I could be called. Those beasts are survivors."

From that moment, he had a new nick-name. Instead of 'that wild-man that Hudson found', he was the Wolverine.

End Drink & Be Merry 9: Naming the Wolverine.


	10. Angel on His Shoulder

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"Would it surprise you very much to know that my husband underestimated you terribly?" Heather called.

Logan turned, giving her a half smile and a small wave. "I'm not surprised at all."

"Apparently you were running for over two hours before he had you sparring with highly trained soldiers!" Heather frowned, and muttered, "I'm going to have some words with him about that later..."

"I may not be the fastest man out there, but I've got stamina," he paused, and tried to imitate a flirtatious grin that he'd seen someone using. "And if you ever decide to dump him, I'd be happy to show you what I can do with it."

Heather laughed, smiling as she admitted, "I don't think that's very likely, Logan."

Logan shrugged, not surprised by her words, and only a little disappointed. She was pretty, and smart, but if she'd been fickle enough to leave her husband just like that, what guarantee would he have that she wouldn't leave him just as easily? "A guy can hope."

"On matters that have nothing to do with my marriage, do you think you'd be willing to spar with some of the soldiers more often?" Heather twisted her fingers in her hair, "Nobody's going to force you, and I'd understand if you didn't want to do it..."

"I..." Logan paused, and thought about her question. "I can see why it might be good - they could use the challenge, and I could use the chance to work through some of my issues. On the other hand, if things get fuzzy, I could hurt them. Badly."

Heather clasped her hands together, not quite looking directly at him. "Is that a yes or a no?"

"It's an I can understand the question and want to think about it. Right now I'm not sure if there's more in favor of yes or more in favor of no," Logan gave a shrug, "Since it isn't urgent, I want to be careful about it."

"That does seem to make sense," Heather admitted.

Logan nodded, "I don't consider myself crazy. But I've got some problems in my head. One of the biggest is that my past is... I can't remember. And I've got more than a bit of a temper."

"You wouldn't be the only person here with a temper," Heather chuckled.

Logan let the claws slide a few inches out of his left hand. "I've put gouges in stone with these before. Imagine what they could do to flesh and bone."

She winced.

"Which is why I don't want to lose my temper in a training exercise," Logan finished.

"We just want to help you, Logan," Heather promised.

Logan nodded, wanting to believe her. "Sometimes it just takes a while."

end part 1.

Logan wrestled with the idea of regularly sparring with the soldiers. Fighting... with soldiers. He had all sorts of ideas of how that could go horribly wrong.

But maybe it could help him. Help him work on controlling his temper. Help him learn or maybe relearn human speeds and reactions.

Angel was a great help, but he wasn't human. When it came to fighting, or even just sparring, that made a huge difference.

As the day progressed into night, Logan's frustration only grew. His thoughts felt like a noose, keeping him from breathing right. Logan shook his head, stomping a little as he headed away from all the cabins. He found himself walking along the lane, towards the gates of the facility. Towards the outside.

He wanted out. Out of the facility, away from all the eyes and observations. Just to make sure that he could leave.

Leaving wasn't a problem - the gate wasn't latched or secured in any way, and the weight wasn't enough to prevent him from opening it enough to leave. He felt much better as soon as he was on the other side of it.

It wasn't until he was wandering along the street that he realized he didn't know much about this town. Didn't know where anything was, who the people were, who to talk to for problems. He didn't even know where the closest bar was!

"This seems familiar," Angel's voice held a bit of laughter. "Let me guess, you're looking for a bar?"

Logan grinned, "Of course I am. If I'd already found one, I'd be inside drinking, wouldn't I?"

"Ah, so you have money to go drinking on now?" Angel smiled at him, stepping out of the darker alley where human eyes probably wouldn't have seen him.

"Damn, I knew there was something I forgot," Logan scowled.

Angel laughed.

"Glad that someone's amused," Logan grumbled.

"I've got some money," Angel was still chuckling. "I can buy us both something to drink."

"Both?" Logan looked at Angel, wondering just what kind of bar the vampire had found.

Angel shrugged, "I can buy us both alcohol, and pick up a little bite from a drunk or a would-be mugger later."

"Ahhh," Logan nodded, deciding that Angel's plan made a lot of sense. It wasn't quite nice, but it would work.

Over a bottle of whiskey, Logan explained Heather's suggestion of sparring with the soldiers. He didn't go into detail, but he did mention having some concerns about it going very bad.

Angel listened. He didn't dismiss Logan's fears, didn't offer blind assurances that everything would be fine.

After several long minutes of quiet, Angel suggested, "Not to diminish your concerns, but this is something you need to deal with. You have to get to the point where seeing a man in a uniform doesn't make you angry, doesn't make you lose your temper. It might be good to work on that in a time and place where they can patch them back up later. Maybe start with once or twice a week, and never start out when you're already angry?"

"You're tellin' me I need to deal with my issues," Logan didn't quite growl.

"You need to deal with your issues before they control you," Angel paused. "I have my own issues that I'm working on. You were a big help. I've made progress, but there's still a long way to go."

Somehow it felt better knowing that Angel had his own issues to struggle with.

"I'll tell Heather tomorrow," Logan sighed.

"Good. Now, that big fellow with the ugly jacket is glaring at you. Do you want to ignore him, or to get into a bar fight?" Angel had a rather toothy grin.

Logan laughed, "What kind of question is that, Irish? I'd rather have a good fight than sit here brooding like a lump."

end part 2.

End Drink & Be Merry 10: Angel on His Shoulder


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